


Medications and Manipulation

by gh0st1nn1t



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Gen, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Protective Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Protective Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Sides (Sanders Sides), Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Unsympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0st1nn1t/pseuds/gh0st1nn1t
Summary: Virgil finally feels like he can breathe. Thomas agreed to try anxiety medication, and Virgil felt like he was floating, happiness practically oozing from him. He finally felt like himself.But Patton doesn't like him being independant, and he can't handle not being relied on, so he makes a plan.Thank fuck, Janus and Remus notice something's off, but will they be too late to save and protect the others from Morality's sadistic plans?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 110
Kudos: 211





	1. Where's My Epic Background Boss Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAA ive been gone for so long im so sorryyyYYYY!!! Im fully rewriting this so PLEASE RE-READ THE WHOLE THING OR YALL WILL BE FUCKIN CONFUSED AIGHT THANKS LOVE YALL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> manipulative patton was vv interesting to write btw  
> 
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS [DO NOT SKIP]  
> -VERY unsympathetic patton  
> -emotional/psychological+phyical abuse from a friend(?)  
> -manipulation  
> -mentions of anxiety medication  
> -panic attacks [mentioned only]

Virgil had been mulling it over for a while. Thomas had said he wanted to try anxiety medication, and Virgil had been terrified at first. He thought he was going to die. He’d seen the works that the Fanders made, where the pills killed him from the inside out. They terrified him. Then, after some thinking, he agreed, making Thomas promise to stop taking them if it started hurting him.

Instead, it had the exact opposite effect. Virgil finally felt like the boulders on his shoulders had crumbled away into nothing more than miniscule pebbles. He finally laughed at their humour, and shot jokes back and forth. He made more of an appearance in the videos, and he spoke more, finally feeling like he could share his thoughts without being ridiculed or mocked. The medication had helped him more than he ever expected.

According to the comments on the latest videos, it had helped a lot of Fanders too, as it showed that anxiety medication wasn’t as harmful as it was portrayed. Virgil soon became even more loved by fans as his unfiltered personality shone through.

He finally felt like he could breathe clearly without being afraid to exist wrong. He felt like he could fly. Everything he said came natural to him, instead of him standing in silence for ages trying to tiptoe around his words. Whenever panic started rising, he was easily able to push it away, and it just... disappeared . Virgil scolded himself for not agreeing sooner. 

Everything felt amazing. 

He never knew he would ever be able to walk around the mindscape and do what he wanted without dread filling him, expanding with every step.

During discussions, Virgil spoke up and said whatever he was thinking, instead of bottling it up and mumbling occasional words. He felt amazing.

Virgil had never cried of happiness, but the pure relief that washed over him once the medication started had made his body rack with comforted, happy sobs. He no longer flinched at physical contact, or recoiled from hugs. 

It was obvious to everyone in the mindscape that the medication they were worried about had been their saving grace. Everyone seemed happier with it. Janus had restrained his lying, and had made an effort into not being vague or manipulative. Remus had agreed to no longer scream disturbing things, and his intrusive thoughts had been toned down by the medication somehow. Logan no longer let himself be a doormat, and spoke up whenever he was interrupted or brushed off. Roman no longer felt pain twist his stomach when his ideas were rejected, and nodded and set to working on a new one. Patton...well...

He hated it.

He hated the medication more than anything, including the dark sides. He hated it, h e hated it he hated it he h at e d i t - 

Virgil no longer relied on him for anything. He no longer sheepishly walked into his room at night, admitting his nightmares. He no longer looked at Patton and gestured for him to take over talking for him. He no longer sobbed in his arms during panic attacks. Patton hated how Virgil was no longer able to be manipulated into being his cute son.

But he never snapped.

Not once.

He held it back.

Until...

"Okay, my adorable edgy little son!" He squealed, sinking down before reappearing moments later and handing the glass to Virgil. The new-found confidence in Virgil to be able to actually ask for things had set off something inside of him. Usually Patton would ask him if he needed anything, and even then, Virgil usually wouldn't admit what he wanted as to not 'annoy' him. But never had Virgil actually spoken up unprompted and asked for something.

"Hey, Pat?" Virgil removed his headphones, sliding them down his neck as he took a sip of the water. 

"Yes, Kiddo?" 

"Could you...stop treating me like a child? I know it's how you treat everyone, but being called 'kiddo' and treated like a harmless baby makes me uncomfortable. I know you don't call Logan 'kiddo' because he asked you not to, so could you do the same for me? It's nothing against you, it just makes me feel weird when I'm treated like a toddler. Thanks," Virgil gave him a nod, not noticing the rage barely being restrained by the man in front of him.

"Of course, kiddo! I'll try to tone it down!"

He hadn't.

It got worse.

No matter what Virgil tried, Patton constantly patronised and babied him. He used 'Kiddo' in almost every sentence, often accompanied with 'Virgie' or 'my dark strange son'. Patton noticed how Virgil fidgeted and avoided his eyes when he said it, and that had sparked some morbid happiness inside of him.

Then Virgil's newfound happiness began to slip away.

He went back to feeling inferior and weak as Patton practically hovered around him all day, constantly using nicknames that made his stomach churn. Whenever he tried to speak up, Patton would interrupt him, and the pitying glances from the others weren't helping.

Eventually, he decided to ignore it, and spoke over Patton whenever he was interrupted. He refused to answer to 'Virgie' or 'Kiddo', only responding to his actual name. He stood his ground. He could tell it was pissing Patton off and he was glad. He didn’t know what was happening to the fatherly figure, but he was always so...angry. Virgil guessed that finally being able to convey and understand expressions was a side affect of the pills.

Then Roman showed up to breakfast one morning with a soft red bruise on his cheek, his royal demeanor shaken slightly, It was almost normal, but it felt like something was off. He wasn't sure what, but it felt as if all the furniture in the room had been shifted by two inches. It was subtle, and he didn't know what it was, but whatever it was, it felt wrong.

When Virgil pulled him aside, he waved it off, grinning, "I got injured on an adventurous battle with some evil villain that tried to harm the kingdom in the Imagination. Just a copycat of the dragon witch, nothing unbearable," he explained, except he was tapping his finger to his thumb, and Virgil knew that was his tell. He was lying.

"Roman, what actually happened?" Virgil asked, leaning in closer as he practically whispered.

Roman's face fell, and his royal manner faltered, if not for just a moment, and it almost seemed as if he was going to tell the truth, leaning forwards and opening his mouth, barely able to speak. He looked terrified, which was uncharacteristic for him. "It-" His voice was trembling and almost silent, then his eyes fell onto something behind Virgil, and he practically snapped back into position, perfect posture and a grin on his face.

"I told you! It was just some slip up in the Imagination. Not everything is a conspiracy,although that would be fun, eh?" he nudged Virgil's shoulder jokingly, his grin seeming too wide to be real. Virgil's eyes flickered to behind him, where he saw Patton walking past the room. Confusion wrapped itself around his head. He waited for Patton to enter a seperate room before continuing.

"Roman, are you actually okay? What were you going to say?" Virgil whispered, face morphed into concern. 

Roman’s face fell once again, looking almost sick as his eyes were glued onto the door Patton walked out of, even after Patton went out of view. “Nothing, Virgil. I’ve told you, I’m fine,” then he spun around and walked out of the room.

The rest of the week was full of strange encounters. 

Roman seemed off the whole time, and Logan seemed suspicious of everything. Virgil felt like everything was off. Except Patton. 

He stayed the same the whole time.

He seemed unbothered by the sudden switch in behaviour, as if pretending it wasn’t there.

When Virgil approached him about it, he seemed to not care.

“Pat, why’s everyone acting so... off?” He asked, fidgeting with his fingers, picking at the nailpolish. He felt like he was going mad. After the medication started working, everything was amazing. Roman would make commentary on Disney with him. Logan would offer up debates on subjects they were both passionate about. 

But then Roman began jumping at any slight noise, and any villain scenes in Disney would make him curl in on himself. He would be out in the Imagination a lot more than usual, as if escaping from the others, and Virgil felt as if it was his presence he was trying to run from. Logan began speaking less, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for someone. He would recoil from affection more than usual, and Virgil believed it was him being too clingy that had driven Logan away.

“They’re not, Virgil. You’re just panicking,” he snapped, clearly irritated. Virgil didn't know why, but he flinched.

"No, Pat, seriously. Roman looks scared of everything and Logan's basically gone mute. That's not normal," Virgil persisted, hands waving as he spoke to emphasise his words. If Patton kept pretending the sudden flip in their personality, Virgil knew he'd be convinced he was actually going insane.

Patton practically whirled around. "Virgil, drop it."

Virgil's jaw practically dropped. "Drop what? You admit there's something going on? You know what's happening to them? Is it the pills and that's why you wont tell me? You know the pills are hurting them but they're helping me so you won't tell me? Patton please, admit it! You know what's happening!"

"Virgil," he warned.

"Patton, please, I'm going insane over here! Everyones completely changed and there's no explanation! You can't deny it! It's so obvious! Please, even if you don't know why it's happening, please just tell me that it is happening so I know i've not lost my mind! Patton-!"

That's when he snapped. The final straw broke. The last shoe dropped. It happened.

Patton raised a hand, and suddenly Virgil was flat against the wall, hand shakily touching his lip, fingers stained with drops of crimson blood.

Virgil felt as if his ribs were shrinking and crushing his lungs, his breaths coming out in rapid shaky exhales. His throat burned and his eyes prickled. Scorching tears welled in his eyes as his free hand balled into a fist, black nails digging into his sweaty palm. Tiny drops of wine-coloured blood rolled down from a small scratch on his nose, the result of Patton's nails. The room seemed to be closing in on him, as if he was Alice from that once scene in Alice In Wonderland where she was too big for the tiny house. He felt as if he was two inches tall as Patton glared directly at him.

"Virgil, I told you to drop it." 

He felt like he was going to be sick. "P-Paa-Pa-Pat-Pa-" Virgil choked out his words, barely able to speak without feeling like he'd vomit.

Patton pouted, clasping his hands and leaning the side of his face onto them, mocking him. "Awe, is baby Virgie going to cry?"

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he forced out a furious yell, "Wh-W-Why?"

Patton laughed, the spine-chilling noise echoing around the room. "Why? Why? Ever since Thomas took those stupid pills, you completely changed. So I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine!" Do you know how it feels for someone to be co-dependant on you and then suddenly you're not needed?"

"Is that what this is about?" Virgil didn't know where it came from, but suddenly everything clicked in his mind and there was fire in his eyes and a scratching in his throat as he yelled. "You're mad that I'm happy? And you're so angry about it you decided to hurt the others?"

He pretended to think, tapping his finger against his chin. "Yeah, basically," he shrugged, the grin not faltering, "Listen, my dark strange son, you are going to tell Thomas that you don't want him to take the medication anymore because it's hurting you instead of helping. Got it? And you must tell him not to tell anyone else, because you 'don't want them to worry'. Okay?"

Virgil sneered at him, unsure of where the confidence came from. "Fuck no."

Patton's face dropped, and suddenly his eyes were wide and filled with tears, mouth parted slightly into a frown, eyebrows tilted up. "Virgie? This hurts you just as much as me. Please? I won't hurt the others anymore! It'll make me happy. I've been depressed these last few weeks, and you doing that would make me happy. Please? You know I don't like asking for things. You trust me, right? I wouldn't lie, would I? You know I only do good things! I'm Thomas' heart, and if I'm sad, he's sad. You don't want to hurt Thomas, do you? These pills are hurting him! You gotta stop them, please?" He twiddled his fingers, eyes glued to the floor.

Virgil couldn't help it. Suddenly all he saw was a vulnerable Patton who was pleading for his help. He tried not to picture him as the Patton who he wanted to help, and more as the Patton who slapped him for being happy. But Virgil used to trust Patton with his life, and it was hard to switch a perspective in seconds. Virgil knew Patton usually had good reason for things. "I-" He began, making Patton look up at him through his curls. As Virgil met his eyes, he noticed the glossy tears that were threatening to spill over, and how his lip quivered.

His manipulative words flooded Virgil's mind. "I won't hurt the others!"

Then pictures of Roman's vibrant bruise and his sudden flinching at anything even remotely scary flashed past his eyes, along with Logan's weary eyes darting around rooms as his usually perfect posture was replaced with hunching over and curling into himself.

"It'll make me happy!"

Pictures of an almost-sobbing Patton during the 'Moving On' video along with the desperate Patton begging for his help in front of him flashed through his mind.

“Virgie? I’m sorry it had to be this way. I promise I won’t hurt you again, okay? It was just a slip-up, I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! Just, please, it would help me? You know what it feels like to be depressed, so why won’t you help me?” Patton begged, tears cascading down his cheeks, and Virgil knew what he would do, not that he liked it.

“But- but if he stops taking them I’ll get panic attacks again, and you know I can’t handle keeping all the anxiety with me and keeping it away from Thomas! If I give Thomas some of the anxiety he’ll know that not taking the pills causes the attacks to start up again! And he’ll go back onto the pills! It’s just a cycle!”

“You’ll just have to keep it all with you. I know you don’t want to, and I know it’s not nice to deal with them, but they can’t be that bad! I need you to! Virgie, I won’t hurt you anymore, and I really need the help,” Patton paused, more tears falling down his cheeks as if to distract Virgil from the implications that the panic attacks weren’t as bad as he said they were, “Please, Kiddo? I need your help. I don’t.... think I could live much longer without it.”

Virgil’s blood ran cold, freezing his body inside-out. "Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll do it."


	2. Are Yall Ready For The Depression Train?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS :  
> -threats of suicide  
> -emotional/physical abuse (obviously)  
> -CONCUSSIONS!!! THIS WILL BE A RECURRING THEME, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF UR TRIGGERED BY CONCUSSIONS (SEVERE ONES)  
> 
> 
> AGAIN PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE RE-READ THE WHOLE THING IVE RE-WRITTEN IT ALL THERES A LOT OF NEW PLOTS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanna say, when i add thomas into fanfics, im using character thomas from the series and not real thomas, because writing about real people makes me go blegh. 
> 
> !!!!!also the last warning if you cant read unsympathetic patton to click off now!!!!!he gets worse as it goes on!!!!

The others had all noticed how Virgil’s happy mood suddenly flipped in the middle of the week. One day he would be dancing around the living room, pestering Logan and singing loudly with Roman, finally wearing a baggy tank top in place of his hoodie, and the next, he would be wearing his baggiest clothes and curling into a ball in the chair silently.

They had tried to ask him what was wrong, and he fumbled out a lie about how the pills started hurting him and he felt sick from them, so he was planning on asking Thomas to stop taking them. He’d taken inspiration from some of the Fander’s works about them harming him, using the symptoms from them as an excuse.

When Virgil approached Thomas a few days prior, Thomas noticed how nervous the side looked, fidgeting with his bracelets with one hand and picking at his lips with the other.

“Is everything okay?” Thomas asked, pausing the show to look across the room at the other side.

“Uh, yeah, um, so, you know how you said you’d stop taking the pills if they started going...bad?” He mumbled, hand still subtly covering the cut on his lip, hair falling over his eye, blocking the bruises. Thomas’ face dropped, and his eyebrows twisted up in concern.

“Are they hurting you?”

Virgil froze up for a solid few seconds, before realising he was talking about the pills. He nodded meekly, noticing the sad look on Thomas’ face.

“I thought they were helping; you seemed so much happier. How are they hurting you?” He asked sincerely, seeming genuinely worried for Virgil.

He didn’t know how to answer, and his mind raced for an excuse. The one’s he’d used earlier seemed to vanish from his mind, and he was on the verge of telling the truth before realising his face was covered in bruises. He brushed his hair out of his eyes with the hand that had covered his lips, showing his black eye and the nasty cut.

Thomas looked like he was going to be sick. “How long-?”

“Only yesterday. It started half-way through yesterday,” Virgil hurried out another lie in a desperate attempt to reassure Thomas. 

“I’ll stop taking them, I promise.”

Ever since then, Virgil had gone back to being reserved, the late night baking sessions that would end in food fights were long gone, now replaced with Virgil curled up on the kitchen counter with an energy drink and his headphones.

All of the others seemed worried, but he fed them the same lie he had given Thomas, that the after effects of the pills had weakened him, possibly permanently. They finally seemed to start buying it after Virgil had a panic attack in front of them, while they still thought Thomas was on the pills. In truth, Thomas was easing off of them, and the lack of the carefree feeling he’d grown accustomed to had given Virgil all the stress. The other sides still believed Thomas wasn’t going to stop taking them until a week later. 

They’d grown used to Virgil being a loud, vulgar, life-of the party sort of guy. So when Virgil seemed to flip back to his quiet, reserved, constantly pissed-off self.

Logan used to feign annoyance when Virgil and Roman would jump around on the sofa, narrowly avoiding smashing the windows with their pillows, but seeing Roman sat watching TV alone while Virgil blocked out the world with his headphones while sat on the counter just felt wrong, and he felt torn, unsure on who he should console, Virgil or Roman.

Roman used to groan and cover his head with a pillow while Logan and Virgil excitedly discussed conspiracy theories over the kitchen table, but seeing Logan constantly looking up dejectedly from his book as he realised no one would discuss it with him since Virgil had barricaded himself in his room made him wish he could go back and actually listen so he could wipe the disappointed expression from Logan's face.

Virgil was glad he could modify his room to be sound proof, as the moment he shut the door, he collapsed onto his bed, screaming and punching the pillows in a feeble attempt to release his anger. Neither of the sides had noticed that his face seemed more smoothed over than usual, due to the copious amounts of concealer he’d been using to cover the bruises. Of course, there was the obvious altering your appearance, but that was exhausting, not only for Virgil, but for Thomas too. Janus was the only one able to constantly alter his appearance with no issues, purely because he was literally Deceit. Virgil, however, couldn’t go for more than an hour with his appearance altered, so he settled for using old discarded makeup.

This had caused him to run into problems multiple times, like when he was sat in the imagination, and it had begun to rain. The concealer began to fade, and the harsh purple bruises littering his body became scarily visible. Virgil pulled his hood over his head, tugging on his hoodie strings, head tilted towards the floor, watching his shoes scuff against the floor as he made his way through the woods, returning to the imagination door, and entering the mindscape once again.

“Greetings, Virgil. Do you wish to watch a movie with us?” Logan called out from his place with the other two on the sofa, remote in hand. Virgil paused, not daring to do so much as tilt his head towards them in fear the bruises get seen.

“Yeah! C’mon, Virge!” Roman cheered. Virgil noticed that none of them even took notice of his soaking wet hoodie or the rain droplets falling from his hair. Roman narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he scanned Virgil. “What were you doing in the imagination?” His eyes fell onto Virgil’s hands, which were toying with his hoodie strings.

Virgl noticed and shoved his hands in his pockets, realising his bruised knuckles and nasty, bloody, scrapes littering his hands. “Listening to music.” And with that, he crept up the stairs, Roman’s worried eyes following him. He could feel his eyes burning into his back, and he could only hope they hadn’t seen his face too. 

After that, the other’s had become increasingly worried about Virgil. Well, except Patton, of course. 

A few days had passed, and Virgil had barely left his room. Patton visited him daily, constantly trying to get Virgil to lower his self-worth again, and trying to get Virgil to pity him. Virgil had gotten the confidence to speak up once, sick of listening to Pattons attempts at forcing him to become more insecure. 

He never did it again after that.

Virgil was almost 100% sure he had an incredibly severe concussion, because whenever he stood up, he immediately passed out. Sweat beaded at his forehead, trickling down his body as a fever came on. His speech was slurred and broken up, no matter how hard he tried to fix it. He had a constant migraine that refused to budge, even after he’d tried everything. And Patton didn’t seem guilty in the slightest. 

It had been two days since Virgil’s concussion, and he still felt dizzy when standing up, and 9 times out of 10, he would collapse. Patton had snuck into his room again, this time to tell him that Janus and Remus were coming to visit that afternoon. When he saw the relieved glint in Virgil’s eyes, he got an idea.

“-And you will not leave your room.”

Virgil’s face fell. If there was one thing that could make things slightly better, it was being able to talk to his oldest friends. Even if he was bed-ridden and barely able to function with a highly severe concussion, Remus’ jokes and Janus’ exasperation could always make him laugh. Not to say he didn’t value Roman and Logan’s friendship. He’d just grown accustomed to the two other sides, and associated them with the feeling of comfort and safety. But Patton was even taking that from him. “But-”

Patton raised an eyebrow, “I said, you will not leave your room. I’ll tell the other’s you’re sick, which doesn’t seem to be too far off,” he giggled to himself, seeing Virgil’s paler-than-normal, sweaty, sickly skin and deep purple eyebags. His hands were trembling and his motor skills had become dodgy, constantly dropping whatever he was holding. 

“Ca’ I say hi a’ le’s?” Virgil asked, pulling his knees to his chest beneath the swarm of blankets. He attempted not to focus on the minor lisp and constant slurring of his speech. “They do’t even ha’e to see me. They ca’ sta’ beh’nd the door, I jus’ wanna say hi.”

Patton seemed to be thinking it over, and the longer he left the pause the more hopeful Virgil looked. “No. Absolutely not. I’ll be locking your door from the outside. There’s a motion sensor on your door. I will know if you even attempt to leave.” He stood up, glancing back at the sickly Virgil before walking out the door, shutting it with a loud bang, and locking it with an audible click.

Virgil attempted not to focus on the conversation they’d had, and forced himself to go to sleep, wishing he could sleep all through tomorrow too, so he wouldn’t have to listen to everyone else enjoying themselves without him.

He awoke to vibrant sun beams falling onto his face, and groaned, rolling over and burying his face in a pillow, pissed off that he couldn’t stand for long enough to shut his blinds. He’d gathered the courage to ask Patton, but he’d opened them even more, and left the window open a tiny bit, so his room was always uncomfortably warm.

Virgil shoved the blankets onto the floor, and immediately regretted it as a shiver ran down his spine. He fumbled for his blankets, but his hands couldn't seem to grasp them, and he kept getting black spots in his vision whenever he leaned down. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling with exhaustion. He gave up on doing anything else, simply laying there listening to the silence as he accepted the freezing temperatures that spread across his room.

He heard the front door click open downstairs, listening to the others greet Remus and Janus. He laid there for hours, simply listening to the others having fun, watching movies and playing board games that Virgil was sure  _ he  _ bought. When he heard his name brought up by Remus, he heard Patton hurry out the excuse that Virgil wasn’t feeling too well, and that he’d stayed in his room due to exhaustion.

Virgil snorted to himself. “Y’h tha’s one w’y to s’y it.” He tried not to focus on his slurred speech getting worse, settling on listen to Janus climb the stairs, insisting on checking on Virgil. He could hear Patton sigh and tell him to do what he wanted. 

Virgil hated it. Patton had already pre-thought the situation, demanding that Virgil pretend to be asleep had the others wanted to check on him. He also said that he didn’t care how much it drained Virgil, he had to alter his appearance if any of the others came to see him, refusing to listen when Virgil said doing that exhausted him. He rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes and clenching his fists, forcing himself to alter his appearance to rid himself of any bruises. He began feigning sleeping as Janus unlocked his door.

“Hello, Virgil, I insisted on coming in to check on you-” Janus trailed off, seeing Virgil asleep. 

Virgil listened to the tapping of Janus’s shoes as he approached Virgil. His eyes fell onto the pile of blankets onto the floor, discarded by the bed, clearly given up on. Virgil tried not to smile as he felt Janus place the covers on top of him. As he did, he felt Janus’ hand shiver, and he listened to Janus’ shoes once again as he approached the window, shutting it for him and closing the blinds after. He heard Janus whisper, “Have a good sleep, Virge,” to himself as he walked back out, locking his door once again.

The moment Virgil heard his door lock, he sighed to himself, unclenching his fists and allowing the altered appearance to slip away. He saw the harsh bruises began to scatter themselves across his arms once again, more visible than usual due to his even pale-r skin. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, yawning once again.

The focus he put into altering his appearance had drained any energy he’d gained from his previous sleep, so he allowed himself to drift off once again, finally comfortable with the sunlight blocked by the blinds and with the windows shut. He shut his eyes again, this time actually going to sleep.


	3. Awe Look, He Slipped A Love Note Into My Hand!! No Wait Its A Cry For Help. Shit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN PLEASE RE-READ IT ALL!! IVE RE-WRITTEN THIS ALL!!

It had been an entire week since Virgil had last left his room, and the other’s were beginning to get suspicious. Virgil wouldn’t even let them in for them to bring him food or water. Patton insisted on doing it all. 

But Patton was doing a video with Thomas, and Virgil needed water. He snatched the concealer from the side, applied it quickly, and grabbed the discarded hoodie on the floor to cover his vest. After he’d covered the bruises, he struggled to his feet, forcing himself to see through the black spots in his vision as he attempted to stand still. He focused as hard as he could, and forced himself to sink down and rise in the kitchen.

He opened the fridge, using the handle to stabilise himself as he pulled out a bottle of water. A migraine pounded against his skull from the inside out, causing him to clutch his head with his hand, dropping his bottle.

“Hey, Virgil!” Roman called out, causing Virgil to jump slightly. He nodded in greeting, not trusting his slurred voice not to give anything away. Roman narrowed his eyes. “You okay? You gone mute or something? Why wouldn’t you leave your room?”

“Roman, let him breathe. Patton already explained to us that Virgil was not feeling well. I trust you’re feeling better now?” Logan asked, looking up from his book where he leaned against the wall. Roman looked dejected, and picked up Virgil’s water bottle, handing it to him. Virgil nodded. “Good.” 

Virgil attempted to sink down back to his room, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to when his entire body felt void of energy. He started to approach the stairs, and Logan’s brows furrowed.

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to sink down and rise into your room? Like you did when you went into the kitchen?” He noticed how Virgil seemed to begin to sway after a single step. His feet scuffed the carpet, and his eyes seemed to be closing.

Virgil waved him off, despite his hands trembling, “Too t’red to s’nk d’wn,” and with that, the bottle fell from his hand, falling to the side. Logan managed to put his book onto the table and catch Virgil right before he hit the floor.

“Holy shit,” Roman stared at the unconscious Virgil, who looked a lot more ill than they’d first noticed. 

Virgil had woken up a mere five minutes later, refusing to say anything. They helped him back to his room dejectedly after thirty minutes of questioning. The only answer Virgil gave was on a scribbled note, with barely legible handwriting that was so much worse than usual. He hoped they didn’t notice the pen fumbling out of his hand, and sliding across the paper randomly. He said he was simply tired, and wouldn’t say anything more. He would’ve spoken and told them the truth, but his voice was barely working, and he was still disorientated from fainting.

Roman wasn’t buying it though, and Logan seemed to be on the edge of a conclusion. Virgil was silently begging them to figure it out and to rescue him from Patton. He always hated the idea of being a damsel in distress, in fact he did everything he could to make sure he’d never be the damsel in any situation, but he couldn’t bare hurting Patton by leaving, so he only hoped someone would do it for him.

One night, a few days after he had fainted, a knock echoed on his door, and Virgil felt like he was going to be sick, presuming it was Patton, who had gotten immensely angrier and more violent since Virgil’s sickness had been revealed. Then he remembered Patton didn’t knock, and he calmed himself before stumbling to his feet, and shakily opening it.

The moment the door creaked open, Roman practically stormed in, slamming the door behind him, making Virgil flinch violently, hands scrunching into tight fists. “Cut the bullshit, Virge.”

“Wha-Wh’t bullsh’t?” Virgil tried to play off the stutter and the flinch, casually leaning against the wall, pretending to be as uncaring as he had been when he’d been on the pills, hands in his pockets loosely, one foot against the wall.

“You said the pills hurt you, right? But you were happiest when Thomas was taking them, you only went back to being the Incredible Sulk after he stopped. So the pills aren’t what is hurting you, because those bruises you claim are from the after effects of the pills are fresh. There are new ones appearing daily, those aren't from the pills. You literally fainted, and you were  _ not  _ on the pills then.”

“I- I got los’ in the ‘ma’ination. I wa’ look’ng for y’u to tell y’u Pa-Pa’on made di’er and I...ran i’to some vill’n,” Virgil realised that he had basically repeated Roman’s lie too late, he had already said it. And he had stuttered over Patton's name and slurred nearly al his words, he silently cursed himself.

Roman scrunched up his eyes, 

Roman’s face fell as all the anger melted away, being replaced by realisation. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“I do’n ‘now wha’ y’u’re ta’ing ab’t,” Virgil crossed his arms, avoiding eye-contact.

“Virgil, look at me. I used that exact same lie when he did the same to me. He hurt you, didn’t he? Patton. It’s him, right?” Roman carefully picked out his words, noticing how Virgil looked ready to flee.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Son of a bitch!” He muttered under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Virgil, we should have noticed sooner.”

“Wait, wha’ do y’u mean ‘e did the sa’e to y’u? A’d who’s we?” Virgil attempted to steer the subject away from him.

“He hit me. Only once, but it hurt. A lot,” Roman looked defeated as his shoulders slumped, recalling the memory, “Slapped me, here,” he placed a finger on his cheekbone. “I asked him why he wasn’t letting you talk, or why you looked so sad, and he just...hit me, and told me not to bring it up again. He said no one would believe me if I said anything.”

“And ‘we’ is me and Logan. Patton snapped at him too, called him a robot and said he had inferiority issues which was why he pretended not to show emotion, as it would damage his superiority complex. I was around the corner, I heard. I tried to talk to Logan after, but he said Patton never did it again. Just once. But the one thing he said about it was that Patton admitted that if Logan spoke up about it, Patton would play the victim, and that no one would believe him. He did the same to you, didn’t he?”

Virgil was silent, unable to imagine the brave, undefeated Prince Roman cowering away from their innocent, sweet friend Patton. “Ye’h, ye’h ‘e did.”

An expression of realisation fell onto his face, “He gave you a concussion, didn’t he?”

Virgil picked at his nails, not wanting to show weakness. “Bu’ we ca’t do an’thing abo’t it,” he muttered, tears in his eyes.

“Why not? He’s hurt us all, if we all tell him, Thomas will have to believe us!”

Virgil shook his head, trembling slightly. “Pa’on to’ld me h’s pla’s. If we tell Th’m’s, th’n it’ll only h’rt Th’mas, i’ he kn’ws hi’ m’rality is l’terally ab’sive . Th’ma’s will th’nk he’s a b’d pers’n, you kno’ how he is, it’ll jus’ m’ke him p’nic. If tha’ doesn't w’rk, he sa’d he’ll k-k’ll himse’f a’d, in his n’te, wr’te tha’ all of us spre’d lies abo’t him and abu’ed him to the po’nt he...d’d it. We h‘ave no w’y out.”

Roman was silent, face twisted into a sickly expression as he thought. “The others! Janus, Remus, I know they hate us all, and you hate them, but they won’t let Patton continue, surely!”

“Pa’on said if we told the o’ers he wo’ld only h’rt the’ too, or k’ll the’ and pa’nt it as ‘ither an accid’nt or s’lf defense,” Virgil replied, the plans drilled into his head. “W’re defen’eless. We ca’t do any’hing. Jus’-” Virgil sighed, “Jus’ pro’ise me that you’ll ma’e sure ‘e doen’t h’rt Lo’an or y’u. H’s ang’y w’th me, not y’u two, there’s no po’nt ge’ing y’u two h’rt a’ well. It’ll be be’er with one h’rt ma’n s’de than three h’rt ma’n s’des.”

“Virgil, I can’t do that, that’s cruel!” Roman objected.

“Pro’ise me?”


	4. Four - Well Shit There Isn't A Very Good Vibe In This Chilis Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AIGHT YALL KNOW THE DRILL, IF U HAVENT ALREADY, PLEASE RE-READ THIS ALL BECAUSE I REWROTE IT ALL

Patton would sneak into his room once they thought he was asleep, and would sit down with Virgil, manipulating his mindset back into the insecure one he had before the pills. He would repeat sentences about how Virgil was useless, or evil, or harmful until they soaked into Virgil’s mind. 

He would force Virgil to repeat his lies about him being disgusting, and Virgil tried not to think of the irony of Patton mentioning that the SQUIP from Be More Chill was his favourite character. 

The day after Roman and Virgil had had the chat about Patton, he installed cameras in every single room in the house. There had already been one outside of Virgil’s room, but that didn’t do anything, since Virgil simply made his room soundproof and Patton would never know what was happening. They had microphones built in, and were high quality. No one was allowed in each other's rooms, and Patton either injected himself into conversations between the others, or he would listen over the cameras, making sure none of them were devising a plan. Turns out, he had caught Roman slipping into Virgil’s room, and he could easily guess what they were talking about.

“Why a’e y’u doin’ th’s?” Virgil finally objected, completely done with feeling like Patton’s weak little puppet.

“What?” Patton seemed stunned. It had been three weeks since Virgil first defied him, and he hadn’t since, not after Patton had given him so many bruises.

“I go’ Thoma’ to st’p, I dn’t speak up, I do’t ha’e fun, I don’t smi’e, I can’t talk to t’e othe’s, everywh’re I go is m’nitor’d, I ha’ time limits for r’ms, wha’ more do y’u wa’t? I did th’s to ma’e you h’ppy, a’d you said y’u are, so why a’e you st’ll doi’g it?!” He cried desperately, eyes flickering over to the cameras in the corner of the room.

“Oh, sweet naive Virgie, because I can!” Patton giggled sinisterly. 

“You’e s’ck,” Virgil spat his words along with a trail of blood. His lip had split, and the wine-coloured, warm blood was trickling down his chin. That combined with the bruise on his jaw directly beneath it.

“I know,” Patton beamed, “But I’m doing it because I know what’s best for you! I’m your best friend, Patton, you know I only want what's best for you, right? I’d never hurt you unless you deserved it. You know this,” He pouted, pulling out a tissue, and wiping away the blood on Virgil’s lip. He threw it in the trash, then placed his hand gently on Virgil’s cheek, forcing a sympathetic look onto his face. 

Despite the hand being placed softly, Patton intentionally dug the tips of his middle and ring fingers into a nasty bruise on Virgil’s cheekbone, one that was fairly new yet had already bloomed into a deep purple. He did the same thing he did when he wiped the blood away, ‘accidentally’ pressing down onto the bruise on his jaw harshly..

“I be’ieve you,” Virgil gritted his teeth, lying. He was becoming desperate to keep his mental state in one spot. He had to remember that Patton had gotten him concussed, and locked him away from everyone else, and hurt him constantly and-

“No you don’t. You’re lying. You know I do what I know is best. This is helping you in the long run, you’ve just gotta see it from my perspective. I’m only trying to help my best friend, I’d never hurt you, you gotta believe me,” Patton practically begged.

“I be’ieve you,” As much as Virgil hated it, he was beginning to believe the lies. He kept reminding himself that he just had to lie his way through it, and remember that whatever Patton said wasn’t true. But the look on Patton’s face combined with the soft hand on his cheek had begun to break down his barriers. 

“Again,” Patton crossed his arms, still sensing Virgil's uncertainty. He knotted his eyebrows together in concern and pouted, “Please?”

“I be’ieve you,” Virgil was almost fully immersed into Patton’s manipulation. His words had become wrecking balls, crushing down the barriers Virgil had built around his mind.

“One more time? You know I’d never hurt you if you didn’t deserve it. That head injury was an accident, you know this! I didn’t intentionally give you a concussion, you were acting out! I’m doing what’s best for you, You believe me, right?” Patton gave him a patient smile, masking the satisfaction he felt as he saw Virgil’s objection crumble into pieces.

“I be’ieve you,” and he did.


	5. Five - I'm Just Like Cinderella!! But Without The Singing, The Happiness, And Basically Anything Fun. So Not Like Cinderella, I'm Just Sad And Locked Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some of yall were so sweet its so nice, thank you all! im fine, ive just got to have a very minor surgery on wednesday, and then it's all done, so im fine lol
> 
> and heres another chapter because im somehow motivated for once lol
> 
> also shout out to hozier bc his music is iconic and fuels me to write

None of them had expected it to get so bad. 

Well, they knew how harsh Patton could be, especially when Virgil flat out collapsed from taking two steps, and when Logan didn’t speak for three days because Patton had given him a split lip and it hurt to talk. But now?

They weren’t allowed to talk at all any more.

Patton would stick himself into their conversations so he could listen. If he didn’t he’d simply listen over the cameras, and they knew that, so they were cautious with what they spoke about. He added himself to every chat in their phones, and he would monitor their activity, making sure they had no way to communicate.

They couldn’t even talk through notes, as Patton would demand to read them before anyone else. They were constantly monitored and isolated, all part of Patton’s sick plan.

As promised, Virgil was on the receiving end of nearly all of Patton’s anger. Although when he first promised to take the fits of rage for everyone else, he knew it was because he couldn’t stand to see the monster that was Patton hurting his friends. But then Virgil could never manage to think of Patton negatively at all. Patton wasn’t doing anything wrong in his eyes. The only times it wasn’t directed at him was when Patton snapped to the others, but that was rare. Patton never hit the others again. Only Virgil. But Virgil always believed he deserved it.

When he had tried to talk to Remus about an idea to prank the others, Patton had dragged Virgil away, claiming to need him for a video, leaving a harsh purple bruise on his wrist. And Virgil believed it was his fault for not listening to Pattons rules. Patton was only glad that Virgil hadn’t gotten to the dark sides side of the mindscape, relieved that Remus hadn’t been able to even see Virgil.

Once he had gone into the kitchen at night for a glass of water, and he sat on the counter, but then Patton came in, and shoved him off, yelling at him for not having basic manners. Virgil apologised profusely, hugging Patton once he was forgiven.

Another time, Virgil had dropped his plate on the way to put it in the sink, and Patton made him clean it up with just his hands in front of the other two. Patton knew the concussion had left Virgil’s motor skills in the mud, and that he could rarely pick things up without dropping them. So that made watching him fumble to pick up tiny pieces of glass like daggers even better for him. In the end, Virgil’s hands were soaked in blood and full of agony, but he believed he deserved it for breaking a plate, despite what the other two said. Logan had demanded to look at the wounds the moment Patton left, and was horrified to see the torn shreds in his palms, horrifying deep gashes left behind that he knew wouldn’t be taken care of. Roman offered to clean the wounds, but Virgil laughed, and told them they were being ridiculous, that the injuries weren’t that bad.

The others could do nothing but watch from the side lines in guilt as they saw Virgil completely brainwashed by Patton. They had begrudgingly gone along with his plan, agreeing that one hurt side was better than three hurt sides because they knew Virgil was too stubborn to change his mind. Instead of scrapping the plan completely, the two devised a plan to find a way out behind Virgil’s back, so the moment they could escape, they could grab Virgil and bring him along. That way, Virgil couldn’t object or rat them out to Patton.

Their only means of communication were spotify playlists. They shared a spotify account, and each conversation was a separate playlist, the song titles spelling out whatever they wanted to say. That way, Patton just thought they were listening to music and not chatting. It sounded ridiculous, but google documents didn’t work, as Patton could easily tell they were basically texting through that. Leaving sticky notes never worked either. So they’d been forced to talk through music.

When Patton snapped at them, they would play the playlist with songs spelling out ‘Are You Okay?’, and the other would add a song to the playlist either titled ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’

It seemed obvious, but Patton hadn’t caught on, and they were thankful.

Whenever the others visited, Patton would keep an eye on Virgil, reminding him to act happy, and to pretend to like them. Virgil, not wanting to tell Patton that he actually did like them, and was the furthest thing from happy, simply nodded. Seeing Janus and Remus’ dejected expressions when Virgil said he no longer wanted to talk to them had almost made him turn back, but Patton had his arms out for a hug, and Virgil’s mind immediately locked back onto him.

However, with Patton focusing all of his attention on Virgil, Logan had gotten away with having an unmonitored conversation with Janus in the kitchen, making a point of turning on the kettle to make anything they said incomprehensible to the cameras. Plus, the smoke had fogged up the camera, so they had a few moments alone.

“Since Thomas began taking the medication, it’s been surprisingly fun,” Logan lied through his teeth, clenching his fists. He spoke intentionally louder, so the cameras could still pick up the basis of his words. “Although the intense Just Dance battles between Virgil and Roman have only gotten more competitive, which is not fun. Especially since I’m usually the one who has to fix the TV.’

“Wow,” Janus’ eyebrows raised.Thomas hadn’t told the others that he stopped taking the pills yet, so Remus and Janus were still under the impression that he was still medicated. “Seems like it’s been a big ol’ party over here! All of you seem really happy here; I’m glad.”

Logan’s head snapped towards him, the smile slipping off like water off a duck's back. He gulped before whispering in a harsh voice, “Don’t listen to a word I say,” he warned in a hushed, panicked voice, before immediately snapping back into the perfect-posture perfect-smile pose the moment he finished speaking.

Janus’ expression dropped, body running freezing cold, before getting a warning glance from Logan, and he forced back on the pleasant feeling he felt moments before. “What do you mean?” he spoke quietly, the forced smile still plastered to his face. Worry gnawed at him, like a predator eating its prey.

Logan tore off a spare strip of paper from the noteboard, and scribbled down a note as quick as humanly possible, speeding up when he heard footsteps.

Then he heard hurried footsteps, turning to see Patton, hands clasped, smiling innocently.

“ Oh! Logie! There you are! I need your help with a puzzle! Virgil tried but he couldn’t help”” Patton’s squeaky voice ran through the halls, and Janus’ shoulder slumped, annoyed with the lack of answers. He noticed Logan’s fists clench at the mention of Virgil. “Oh, Janus, how rude of me, it’s great to see you here! Logie, do you have any spare time to help me! Pleeeease?”

His grin practically lit up the room, yet Janus noted that Logan’s shoulders had tensed up the moment Patton put a hand on him. He wrote it off as Logan's dislike of affection, not noticing how Patton’s sharp nails were digging into his shoulder, drawing dots of blood.

“My apologies, Janus, we can converse later,” Logan extended his hand, shaking Janus’ hand before leaving.

And then they walked away, Patton’s hand grasping Logan's wrist, leaving behind harsh red prints, but they were already far enough away that Janus couldn’t tell. What he did notice, however, was the slip of paper in the palm of his hand, simply reading  **‘help us. pretend this is just a video idea and create a fake slip of paper, burn this one after. please help us’.**

Janus stared after them, eyes flickering between the messy scrawl and Logan’s terrified face as he looked back with wide, terrified eyes. He remembered what the note said, and tiled his head, seemingly pondering the fake idea, mumbling “Hey, that’s actually pretty good!” Before stuffing the slip into his pocket, prepare to grab Remus and return to their side of the mindscape, ready to devise a plan to save them.

From what, he didn’t know, but he did know they were in desperate need of help.


	6. Six - Dealing With Assholes : A Guide By Remus and Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i thought the other chapter would be the last for tonight, but im too motivated so heres another chapter

Remus had been having a pleasant chat with his brother, cackling loudly every time he saw Roman scrunch up his nose in disgust from Remus’ words. He’d mentioned eating inedible things seventeen times so far, according to Roman’s counting. He’d also brought up his newly made monsters eight times, which, to be fair, were pretty cool, and even appealed to Roman’s tastes. 

“That’s horrible!” Roman exclaimed, leaning further back into the sofa, sticking his tongue out at his brother like a schoolchild. Remus had been cracking jokes non-stop, and not a single one of them were appropriate for kids.

“Whaat?” Remus laughed, “There’s nothing wrong with my glass salad, you’re just an uncultured dork!”

“It’s literally glass!” Roman threw his hands in the air. “You will choke on it!”

“That’s bullshit. I’ve eaten it every day for a week, and I’m still here! I like how crunchy it is! Stop judging me you dick!”

“Remus, I’ve seen you literally take a bite out of a table, pull a splinter out of your tongue, and keep eating. I don’t think your strange inability to feel pain is the problem here,” Roman snickered.

“I’m betrayed! You know damn well it was a cupboard door and not a table. And it tasted nice, so shush,” Remus pouted, flipping off his brother. “Plus, a character in my book eats wood so I wanted to try it!”

“Why is your character eating wood?!” Roman exclaimed.

“Don’t judge me! You’ve probably had your characters do some weird stuff too.”

“The weirdest would probably be this woman from a poem I wrote writing love notes that were just threats, but hidden,” Roman shrugged, seeing Remus’ intrigued face.

“That sounds right up my alley! Do you have said poem with you?” Remus sat up a little straighter, wiggling his shoulders in an exaggerated excited action, clapping his hands once Roman summoned it from his room, snatching it from him and reading it.

**‘** **Her,’**

Sweet strawberry juice covers the kitchen counters,

Adorably innocent smiles accompany her soft face,

Violet flowers sit in a glass vase on the counter

Envelopes containing enchanting love letters scatter around her

Underneath it all, she must be a kind woman, but

Shattered plates still leave scarred palms.

Forgiveness was out of the question, and had been for a while

Ragged screams echo through the home, although

Our home is merely a house, never truly feeling as comforting as home, but

Maybe she is right, though.

Perhaps she is doing what he believes is true,

And though she seems a sweet woman, the strawberry juice was blood.

The smiles were manic and cruel with jagged teeth.

The flowers have wilted and been crushed beneath her heels

Our love notes were truly well-hidden threats written by her gentle hand.

Now we see the real Her.

“Huh, I never expected to actually like anything you wrote,” Remus shrugged, snorting when Roman elbowed him in the ribs. “It’s darker than usual, I love it!”

Roman smiled, thanking him and giving it to Remus to keep as they moved onto another topic, just casually talking like siblings do. Remus was pretty sure at some point they bonded over their love of 35MM, as it was just as dark as Remus’ tastes, and just as musical theater-y as Romans.

But the moment Janus arrived to tell Remus it was time to go, he noticed Roman’s grin became a lot faker. He also noticed how on-edge Janus seemed to be, tapping his foot impatiently. 

The walk to their side of the mindscape was silent and tense, Remus noticing the cameras lining the hallways, which put him on edge. Those had never been there before. Everything about their latest visit had seemed off. Logan turned on the kettle and never used it, Virgil had demanded for the ‘dark sides’ not to talk to him, and both of Virgil’s hands were thickly, sloppily bandaged, and the conversation with Roman featured many more dark topics than usual.

As soon as they got inside of their side of the mindscape, Janus finally spoke up. “Remus, something’s wrong.”

“I know,” Remus admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Janus opened his palm, showing the tiny scrap of paper with barely legible writing, “Logan slipped it into my hand right before he left.” He handed it over to Remus, watching as his eyes scanned the paper quickly, face quickly twisting into concern. He shoved the paper back into Janus’ hands, pulling out Roman’s new poem.

“Roman said it was about his newest play but it’s not something he’d ever write.,” Remus held it out for Janus to read.

Janus narrowed his eyes, squinting at the words. He seemed to be analysing every little detail. “Hold on, I think I’ve got something. You see this line here?“ he pointed to the line about scarred hands, “Didn’t Virgil suddenly have fully bandaged hands?” Remus’ eyes widened, and they both began analysing the poem further. It took a few moments before Janus spoke up again, “II might be reaching here, but it spells out ‘SAVE US FROM PATTON’. Here, at the sides,” Janus ran a finger over the first letter of every line.

“Shit.”

“Agreed.”


	7. Seven : Introducing small orange man, NO NOT TRUMP-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY YALL PLEASE RE-READ THIS ENTIRE THING I RE-WROTE IT BC MY INSPIRATION SUDDENLY SKY ROCKETED YES IM COMING BACK THE HIATUIS IS OVEERRRRR

Almost immediately, the two sprang into action, Remus clasping his Mace, Janus’s yellow eye glowing in the dimly lit room. They sprinted down the hallway that wrapped around the light sides mindscape, deciding that taking the longer way made them less likely to get caught.

Around half-way through, Remus slid to a stop, grasping Janus’ wrist and pointing down a pitch black hallway.

“That’s never been there before,” Janus remarked. He began walking through there, but Remus caught his wrist.

“We’ve got to help the others,” Remus reminded him, arms crossed, practically bouncing with anticipation, imagining what noise Patton’s skull would make when he whacked him with the mace.

Janus paused, considering his options, “Maybe Patton’s  _ not  _ hiding something in there; Why else would there  _ definitely not  _ be an  _ obvious  _ corridor in the mindscape?” he spoke in a hushed voice before holding a finger over his lips, starting to sneak down the corridor silently. Remus followed his lead, unusually quiet for the disturbing side.

Cobwebs and dust covered the floor, but there were clear markings of someone walking through them. The darkness would have made them trip over the boxes that were slid in front of the end of the hall, but Janus’ glowing eye acted as a lantern. They could see the faint outline of a door underneath the objects.

They carefully moved them out of the way, causing little to no noise, opening the hatch on the floor and climbing down the ladder. The room was seemingly mostly empty, before- 

“Who are you?” A careful voice spoke. 

Janus’ eyes widened, looking for the source of the noise. 

It was a large room, mostly empty, only illuminated by a small lantern and a bulb hanging from the ceiling. There was a bathroom behind a lemon-coloured opaque curtain, drawn back to reveal a toilet, a shower and a sink, all rusty and old. A small bed was tucked into the corner, barely illuminated by the small oil lantern beside it. The sheets were dirty, draped half onto the floor. The walls were painted white once, but had turned a dirty beige, covered in crayon scribbles. A mucky rug sat in the middle of the room, where the person who spoke was sat, legs crossed, hat in lap.

They looked to be around their age, head tilted in confusion. His skin was tanned and dotted with moles and soft orange freckles. Messy curls covered their head, the light bouncing off of the dirty streaks of ginger in the blond. Their green eyes seemed to be hopeful as they stared up at the two. They wore a soft yellow collared shirt underneath a loose orange zip-up, black overalls covering part of it, stopping mid-thigh. Cracked orange tinted glasses sat on his blotchy face. A orange floppy bucket hat sat in their hands as they picked at the threads.

“Are you another side?” Remus’ eyes lit up with excitement, mace falling out of his hands as he approached the person.

The person giggled, “Of course, silly! How else would I be in Thomas’ mindscape?”

“We’ve  _ totally  _ heard of you before,” Janus crossed his arms, holding Remus’ mace as he began observing the supposedly new side. The person tilted their head again in confusion.

“He’s Deceit, I’m Remus! He means we’ve never known there was another side. We thought we'd met all of Thomas’ main sides,” Remus corrected for him.

“Ah, that explains a lot,” They shrugged. “I’m Preston. Morality, if you’d like,” they beamed.

Janus narrowed his eyes, “No, Patton’s upstairs.”

“Patton? That doofus? He’s not Morality. Where’d you hear that?” Preston giggled. “Ah, I forgot. He’s been telling everyone he’s still Morality!” After seeing the questioning looks, he continued, “He used to be Morality, that’s true. But he started becoming Wrath and Manipulation instead of Morality. If I’ve kept track correctly, he changed on the 19th of October, 2016. That’s how long I’ve been stuck here.”

“That was the day Virgil left to join them,” Janus muttered under his breath.

“He’s not Morality anymore?” Remus asked, looking back at Janus, face twisted in concern, “That explains a lot.”

“How’d you even get in here? Patton keeps boxes on top of the door, and he keeps the door locked, he told me,” Preston asked, placing the hat back on his head.

“We weren’t on our way to get the others, when we  _ didn’t  _ find a shady hallway,” Janus spoke, emphasising ‘the others’ in an attempt to remind Remus that they had somewhere to be.

“Yeah! You gotta hate Patton too, right?” Remus jumped up, “He locked you down here like a diseased rodent that foams at the mouth! You gotta want to bash his skull in, too. That’s exactly what we were going to do! And now we plan to rescue you too!” He beamed, dragging Preston to his feet, who suddenly looked a hell of a lot more excited.

“Well, golly gosh! You should have told me earlier! Let’s go!” He grinned, trailing behind them like a lost puppy being adopted, climbing the ladder with excitement.

“Remus, take your Mace. Preston, here,” Janus knelt down, pulling a dagger out of his shoe. He flipped it in his hand, so he was grasping the blade as he held it out to Preston. “If Patton’s is Morality and isn’t Wrath/Manipulation, we’ve not got to protect ourselves.”

“It’s going to be a bloodbath!” Remus snorted, tightening his grip on his mace as the trio crept towards the backdoor to the light sides house, Preston keeping watch of their back. Unexpectedly, they were all prepared and determined.


	8. Eight : BOSS BATTLE TIME BITCHES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AYYY AGAIN IF YALL HAVENT RE-READ THIS PLS DO BC I REWROTE IT ALL AND THERES A FEW MORE PLOTS

Remus picked the lock, letting them slip in silently. They entered quickly and quietly, seeing no one but Virgil on the sofa, knees pulled up to his chest, headphones on.

The moment he sensed movement, he slid the headphones down in jerky movements from his already-weak hands covered in thick bandages, from fingertips to elbow, head snapping to face them. “Wh’t th’ f’ck a’e y’u g’ys doin’ h’r’?” he spat, arms folded as he stood up, vision darkening momentarily. His ankle and calf had been broken for a couple of days, so he limited walking, but he couldn't sit down in silence when he saw the knife in the strange new guys hand as the dark sides entered. He decided to use one of his hands to lean on the sofa. They didn’t have time to question his sudden lisp and slurred words. Or his heavily bandaged arm that he winced when he used.

“We have some business with another side,” Preston spoke up.

“And wh’ th’ h’ll is he?” Virgil sneered, pointing to the orange side. He wanted nothing to do with the dark sides, Patton told him they were bad, but seeing himself get replaced so quickly was painful.

Preston went to speak up, but Janus held up a hand, gesturing for him not to tell them. “Just another side we found,” he paused, noticing how Virgil’s body language was all off. As a master of disguise, he took note of everyones body language, and Virgil’s was almost flipped. He was favoring his right leg,swaying slightly as he stood up and he had his arms folded the opposite of how he usually did. His sneer was showing his bottom teeth too, which wasn’t his usual way of sneering, and his hair was fallen down into his face instead of brushed to the right messily. “Are you okay?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “I’m f’ne,” he insisted, internally trying to figure out what had raised their suspicion.

“If you’re fine, tell me, do you have any injuries? Any at all?” Remus asked, eyebrow raised, the mace hidden behind his back.

“No.”

“Then why are your hands practically in ribbons?” He gestured to the copious thick red gashes that littered his hands, some of them stitched up messily, blood beading on some of them. They were peaking out from beneath the messy bandages, which were clearly done by Virgil, who had always been shit at first-aid.

Virgil scoffed, “I w’s climbin’ a t’ee th’ o’her da’, so of cou’se I ha’e sc’atches o’ my ha’ds!” he defended, unconsciously holding his hands in his sleeves.

“And the bruises covering your arms?” Janus questioned,.

Virgil paused, looking up at them with confusion along with a mix of fear, head tilted like a cowering puppy, “H’w’d y’u kno’ abo’t th’se?”

“I didn’t, but thank you for confirming my suspicions,” Janus deadpanned, seeing the cold sweat that beaded at Virgil’s forehead. Truly, he’d seen the bruises covering Prestons arms, and he assumed Patton would do the same for Virgil, putting the bruises where they wouldn’t be seen. “Now, if you’ll take a step to the side, we have some talking to do with Patton.”

“Abou’?”

“About you, and the others. And how he treats you,” Remus admitted, letting the side of the Mace peak out from behind his back.

“No, no,no, nononono,” Virgil begged, almost accidentally spilling his secret in his frantic panic.

They froze, seeing Virgil’s breath catch in his throat as he realised what he said. He was about to go sprinting away, or more like stumbling and then passing out again, when Logan entered, catching Virgil just in time.

“Virgil, they’re here to help!” He reassured him, glancing at the others and mouthing ‘Thank You’. “Me and Roman told them what’s going on. Patton can’t harm anyone anymore."

“H’s not h’rting an’one, h’s not doi’g an’thing wron’,” Virgil snapped, struggling to escape Logan’s arms as he held him still. There were slow, sharp footsteps that descended the stairs, revealing Patton, holding onto the banister. 

“I told you not to tell anyone,” He snapped, glaring at Virgil with such force that he began trembling. “And how did you get out?” He asked as his eyes fell on Preston, who gripped his knife tighter. 

“These two helped!” Preston informed him, eyes narrowed, prepared to pounce.

“Ah, I knew I didn’t hide you well enough. Oh well!” Patton shrugged, giggling sadistically. “And Virgil, I thought I taught you well enough. You’ve disappointed me, I really didn’t think you’d tell anyone,” he pouted, fake tears welling in his eyes. Virgil tore himself out of Logan’s arms, and clung onto Patton, fists knotted in the fabric of his shirt.

“I didn’ m’n too! Y’u didn’ do an’thing wron! Wh’ are th’y angr’?!” Virgil practically begged, staring up at Patton.

Suddenly, Patton dug a knife out of his pocket, and flipped Virgil around, back pressed against his chest. 

“Don’t step closer,” Patton threatened, the cold blade hovering above Virgil’s throat.

Virgil was horribly confused, _he thought Patton hadn’t done anything wrong? Why was everyone so angry? Why did they keep saying Patton was hurting him? He was only doing what needed to be done, and Virgil deserved it! So why was Patton holding a knife to his throat? Was he just....lying? Did Patton actually do all of that to hurt him?_ _No, he wouldn’t!_ Virgil looked out at the others, who’s eyes were glued onto the blade. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room as everyone held their breath, waiting to see who would make the next move. 

There was a horrible silence, before Logan met Virgil’s eyes. He mimed elbowing someone subtly, and the realisation fell onto him. Virgil felt guilt eating him alive at the thought, but the blade’s cold metal was digging onto his neck. He repeated the action to Preston, who was closest to him. Preston nodded, understanding.

Virgil took a deep breath before digging his elbow into Patton’s gut, and bit his forearm, making the knife fall from his hand. He caught it, and pressed his foot into Patton’s stomach, causing him to fall onto the floor with a grunt.

He grasped the handle of the knife tightly, foot on Patton’s chest, holding him down. He stared down at him with a blank expression. The knife was unsteady in his hand, and his hands were obviously twitching violently. He was swaying, and his foot was merely placed on Patton's chest, clearly about to pass out once again. Logan sensed it, and moved behind him subtly, prepared to catch him if he did collapse again.

“I guess you got me. Oh well,” Patton shrugged the best he could, “But, you might notice someone’s missing,” he pretended to gasp, “Where’s Roman?”

“Y’u sw’re y’u wouln’t h’rt an’one e’se,” Virgil sneered, although you could barely tell with the weakness in his body from the upcoming faint. His lip barely moved as his body was devoid of all energy. His vision was almost pitch black, and he was swaying slightly, eyes attempting to focus on the dark blurry mess before him.

“Promises are made to be broken,” Patton giggled, struggling to get out from underneath Virgil’s boot. He could clearly tell Virgil was about to pass out, and he also felt the pressure on his chest almost completely go, as if Virgil's motor skills had been affected so badly he couldn't press his foot down properly.

“What are you all doing? I’m right here-” Roman spoke as he entered the room, freezing at the sight before him.

“Whoopsies! I must have made a mistake with my planning! Hmm, let me remember, oh yeah! It wasn’t Roman who I was planning to stab,” Patton’s bubbly expression dropped, “It was you,” and with that, he slid a knife out of his sleeve, and plunged it into Virgil’s hip. 

Virgil winced, dropping the knife and stumbling backwards.

Roman lept into action, taking over Virgil’s place with a foot pressing down on his chest, pinning Patton to the ground

Virgil’s hands pressed against his hip in an attempt to stop the flow of blood. Preston rushed to his side, attempting to help Virgil stand, holding one of Virgil’s arms around his shoulders. He tugged off his orange sweater, handing it to Virgil, “Use this to stop the blood.” Virgil, however, was barely consious, and ended up passing out, merely glad the others believed it was due to blood loss and not the blow to the head he'd suffered a few days ago. Preston shifted Virgil's weight, and held it in place for Virgil, glancing to the others for help.

Remus went to the other side of Virgil, supporting his other arm, feeling almost sick when he felt the obviously broken bone beneath the bandages. “We’ll take him to Picani. Deal with Patton. And Roman? Give him a good whack in the head for me.”

And with that, they sunk down. Logan broke the silence

“The pit isn’t that far from here, is it? A few minutes away, if my memory serves me correctly.” 

Patton’s face fell, and he started struggling more, desperate to escape. “No! I did nothing wrong! I just taught Virgil a lesson! He deserved it!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Janus spat, eye glowing harshly.

“And I deserved it too?” Preston asked. 

“Of course you did, I couldn’t have anyone finding out about you,” Patton snapped, briefly pausing from his struggle to talk. 

Preston frowned, “Yeah, okay, Wrath.”

The room fell deadly silent.

“Wrath?” Logan questioned.

“Patton,” Janus spoke up, “seems to be Morality no longer. He is now Manipulation and Wrath. Preston here is the new Morality,” he explained.

Roman raised an eyebrow, not surprised, “Can I bash his head in yet?” He raised his mace, fist gripping the weapon.

“We’re taking him to the Pit. That’s where Corrupted sides go anyway,” Janus spat, seeing Patton stop struggling.

“Well, I guess it’s too late to change your mind. Go on then. Kill me. Kill another side,” Patton grinned evilly. “Kill a part of Thomas.”

“You stopped being a part of Thomas once you began getting corrupted. It has no reflection on Thomas, as nearly every person has at least one corrupted side. And that side happens to be you. The Pit is the correct punishment,” Logan folded his hands behind his back. 

They managed to get Patton into handcuffs, and began leading him down the hall, directly towards the pit.


	9. Nine : Hospital's Are Scary But Cartoon Man Makes It Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoops sorry for not updating lol  
> more seriously im sorry for not updating ive been vv busy thats my bad
> 
> ALSO!!! im still leaving yall in suspense on the whole patton situation, BUT!! here's a virgil-centric update bc dude got SHANKED last chaper lmao
> 
> PLS READ CONTENT WARNINGS!!!:::  
> -mentions of ab/se  
> -metnions of st/bbing  
> -attempts at pulling out the IV thing  
> -struggle (?)  
> -fight  
> -mentions of medical terms (concussions, lacerations, etc)  
> -mild gore  
> -manipulation

Remus and Preston stared nervously at Picani, internally praying for good news. Of course, considering the amount of injuries they’d seen, they knew there was no chance of it being all good news. 

Virgil had been sedated and had to have stitches from the top of his thigh to almost to his armpit just from the stab wound. There were more stitches he’d needed, on his nose, his fingers, his leg and his forearm. He was laying in a hospital bed, machines beeping madly beside him. The sickly green tinge of his almost pure white skin didn’t seem like a good sign. He wore loose hospital pyjamas, the bottom of his shirt riding up to reveal the mountain of bandages that covered his torso. His arms and legs were also covered in bandages and large bandaids, along with a few on his face and neck. Beneath them, the injuries were barely visible, or they’d bled through. 

Picani, despite being a therapist, had also done a degree in medicine, so he was the perfect person to go to. He’d checked Virgil’s condition, and he wanted to ask a few questions, as it was insanely worrying. 

“To start off, how long has he had that concussion for?” 

“He has a concussion?” Remus’s eyes widened. 

Picani’s eyebrows knitted in concern, “You didn’t notice? Loss of motor skills, passing out, memory blanks, speech issues? These are all symptoms of a severe concussion.”

“Will he be okay?” Preston asked. He’d only met Virgil once, but he knew what it was like to have the world twisted to match Patton’s views. The empathy seemed to choke him as a sickening feeling rose in his throat.

Picani looked sympathetic, “He’ll need a speech therapist, and he may never be able to fully use his hands again, both due to the nerve damage from the lacerations and the motor skills issues, and he’ll definitely need an occupational therapist. The damage to his left kneecap along with his broken leg will leave a nasty scar and a limp, but he should be fine without a cane.”

The other two looked mildly sick, glancing over at the calmly sleeping Virgil. His foundation had been removed, along with the disguising charm, revealing the busted lip, crooked nose, black eye and more scrapes. 

“I’m sorry to have been the one to tell you,” Picani apologised, “Virgil will have to stay here for a while, as he is severely malnourished and dehydrated. Do you have any idea how he got these injuries?” Picani trusted the other two, he knew they’d never do anything like that. Well, he’d only met Preston mere seconds ago, but he trusted easily.

“Patton,” Remus spat. He hoped Roman was using his mace to give Patton some good injuries.

“Patton did this?” Picani asked, face twisted in shock. He’d been friends with Patton since they were children. He knew Patton was stubborn and could manipulate to get his way, but he’d never expected him capable of something so horrible. Virgil’s condition was the worst he’d ever had to deal with, including the multitudes of times where Remus nearly died in the imagination. 

“The others are taking him to The Pit right now, so Virgil should be safe,” Preston spoke sadly, feeling almost guilty that Patton stopped taking his anger out on him and had turned to Virgil to be his punching bag. He knew he couldn’t have stopped him, but he wished he could’ve.

“What other injuries does he have?” Remus asked, desperate to get the conversation away from Patton. Virgil had been stabbed in his brothers place, and the guilt was gnawing at him. Hell, he didn’t even want to know what Patton had done to him, but he knew that if they were going to be looking after Virgil, they’d have to know.

“Let me check,” Picani spoke slowly, still shaken by the news, he scanned his clipboard, beginning to read out the mass of notes, “3 broken ribs, 6 broken fingers, 8 broken toes, a fractured arm, a broken leg, blindness in the left eye, 3 missing teeth, 2 broken knuckles and mostly bruises along with dehydration, malnutrition, loss of fine motor skills and a broken nose,” he couldn’t imagine Patton doing all of those. Hell, he couldn’t imagine Patton standing on an ant, let alone harming another side in all those ways.

“Holy shit,” Remus muttered, the guilt increasing and making his head ache. It took alot to affect him, but this was enough to put him on the verge of vomiting. 

“He should be awake soon, he’ll most likely be disorientated but calm due to the sedatives-”

Just as he said that, Virgil’s eyes opened blearily, and almost immediately, he sprang up, breath changing from shallow, rhythmic breaths to fast frantic ones, attempting to yank the IV out from his hand, hands fumbling uselessly, failing and turning to the bandages covering his arms, attempting to unwind them and tear them off. Due to his nerves being damaged, it was more aggressively rubbing the bandages with his fingertips. His face twisted in frustration as he failed to do anything more than press his fingers into the wounds underneath. He dug his fingers beneath the bandages from the side, finding it easier to pry them away instead of tearing them.

Picani practically darted over, carefully holding Virgil’s wrists, keeping them still, “What are you doing?” He asked calmly, despite the confusion and worry that surrounded his brain. The amount of sedatives along with his injuries should’ve kept him disorientated and out-of-it, barely awake, but he was screaming and struggling immediately, and he was lost on what to do. 

“‘Ne’d ‘o g’t b’ck ‘o P’tt’n!” He insisted, struggling against Picani’s gentle hold. His hands were limp but still clawing in a frantic attempt. Picani made sure not to grasp too hard, and his hands barely touched the bruises covering his wrists, but Virgil still failed to get his hands back to himself. His breathing was wheezing and weak, coming out in short panicked breaths. His voice was crackly and hoarse, and when mixed with the speech impediment and his screaming, you could barely tell what he was saying.

“Virgil, buddy, it’s okay,” Remus rushed to his side, and Virgil stopped struggling to look up at him.

“R’mus? P’tt’n sa’d y’ur b’d! W’y…” He paused, and a hopeful look tinted Remus’ eyes, almost crying with relief when he thought he’d calmed down Virgil successfully. “No! P’tt’ns alw’ys r’ght!” He yelled, pushing himself backwards against the wall, fumbling and slipping.

“Virgil, breathe. Listen to me, Patton did this. He’s not a good person,” Preston interfered, noticing the confusion on Picani’s face and the hurt look on Remus’. He held his hands out in surrender, speaking calmly and clearly, despite that, Virgil jumped violently.

“No! ‘E is! ‘E ‘nly d’d th’s b’ca’se it h’lp’d h’m! He c’n m’ke it b’tt’r!” Virgil screamed, barely able to imagine the anger Patton would show if he knew Virgil had been weak enough to get help. “L’t m’ go! L’t m’ go! L’t m’ go!” He insisted.

“Virgil, we can’t,” Remus spoke, forcing himself to look Virgil in the eyes, despite one being bandaged and the other being swollen, and the sick feeling rising in his stomach. 

“Yes! y’u c’n! I ne’d P’tt’n! I ne’d h’m! Ple’se!” He begged, “‘e c’n h’lp me! L’t me see P’tt’n!” Virgil yelled, barely wincing in pain when he kicked his broken leg against the bedframe, or when he finally grasped part of the IV, or when he tugged his hands back and hit his knuckles in his eye. 

Picani gave the others a glance, gesturing for Preston to take over the hold of Virgil’s wrists. Preston nodded, wrapping one of his hands around both of Virgil’s wrists as Picani slid over to the dosage monitor, and turned up the sleeping pills dosage, just enough to knock Virgil out for half an hour.

Virgil still struggled against the three of them, and Remus looked about ready to collapse and just hug him. He tried to pull his hands out of Preston’s grip, but he kept failing, and settled for kicking the bed frame aggressively, screaming and screaming until, moments later, before Remus even got the chance to intervene, the sedatives kicked in and he finally started to get faint and pass out.


End file.
